


my loneliness is killin me

by dreambees



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Karaoke, Loneliness, M/M, Pop Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 23:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7911046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreambees/pseuds/dreambees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Stiles is walking - tripping - in the woods at 3 am to find out if Derek is being held hostage. He doesn't quite expect what he finds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my loneliness is killin me

**Author's Note:**

> Stereoke. I do not own the characters of teen wolf, and I do not own the song "Hit Me Baby One More Time" by Britney Spears. Comments and suggestions accepted!

Walking around late at night in the preserve is not Stiles’s favorite activity. If he were to make a list of his favorite things to do at night, it probably wouldn’t even be on there. But when you get some odd sounding messages from your boyfriend, who is also a very powerful alpha, you must investigate in the middle of the night.

So Stiles is walking - tripping - in the woods at 3 am to find out if Derek is being held hostage. The theory might be irrelevant, but Stiles is not taking any chances. Not after Derek had finally admitted his feelings for Stiles on the night of his 18th birthday. Not after saving his ass multiple times in the few years they’ve known each other, and Derek returning the favor. Not even after almost having to cut off Derek’s arm from the wolfsbane bullet. Stiles needs to make sure Derek is okay because they are connected in a way most couples are not. And it isn’t because Derek is a human. Stiles truly doesn’t know what connects them, only because it isn’t something you can explain. It simply is just something you feel deep down in your being, even if the person is being a complete douchecanoe, you still feel it.

Lost in thought, Stiles feels his feet fly out from under him as a branch cuts him across the face. He lets out a colorful array of foul language, and brushes leaves from his hair, only to be distracted by some type of familiar music playing in the woods. Picking himself up from the ground, he brushes off and curiously takes a step in the direction of the music, realizing it’s the same direction to Derek’s house. He vaguely thinks of impending doom, and what might be happening in the continuous renovation of the burned home. Stiles didn’t even call Scott for back up. In fact, he didn’t call anyone, taking it upon himself to scope out the scene. His thoughts start to drift once more on the imminent future. 

After the pack had graduated, Scott started making plans for veterinary school, while Stiles looked at schools farthest from Beacon. He was accepted to San Diego State University, and his father couldn’t be prouder. But, Stiles realized his mistake when he told Derek the news, because his face became unreadable. Derek has always been a dumbass, refusing to share his feelings, but only choosing to do so in conflicting, trying times. That night he told Stiles how much he meant to him, and that every time Stiles took a breath, Derek could too. Stiles had been furious with him, because he ruined Stiles’ good news, and his 18th birthday in one fucking night. But as the smoke cleared, Stiles was met with a shaking Derek Hale, on his knees with his feelings exposed for all of Stiles to see. Stiles had known then that he loved him in that moment of realization. He insisted that Derek stay in Beacon Hills to re-build the Hale house in order to stabilize the pack as alpha. He needed to keep his communal ties there while Stiles  was away for the many weeks in college. Derek was reluctant to let Stiles go, but agreed to the promise of Stiles returning every few weekends in between. 

Now traipsing through the deep brush makes Stiles worried. Maybe he should have stayed in Beacon, to keep the bond strong between them. He’s walked this path a million times, but now maybe it feels more permanent this time around, like maybe he should be here to stay. Stiles comes to this conclusion as he arrives at the Hale door. There is still Peter-shaped scratch marks and burnt paint here and there, because Derek is stubborn and refused to replace the door before the house is complete.

All this is irrelevant at the moment, however, because the pop song “Hit Me Baby One More Time” is blasting through his head and for once, silences his thoughts. Stiles slowly pushes the door open to slip inside and finds his boyfriend standing in the middle of the half completed living room, singing along to karaoke by himself. It’s such a peculiar turn of events that Stiles finds himself stifling his snorts of laughter with his free hand, that isn’t holding his father’s police-issued flashlight. Thankfully, the loud song muffled the sound Stiles uttered and gives him long enough to compose himself. To see all the empty beer bottles strewn haphazardly at Derek’s feet. They are the special brew Erica created herself, containing small traces of harmless wolfsbane so that the pack of wolves could get drunk for special occasions.

But this is no special time to be had. Stiles understands everything as Derek’s broken baritone voice slurs out, “My loneliness is killing me, and I, I must confess I still believe, still believe….” Derek cuts off when he finally recognizes a presence in the room. If he was sober, he would have jumped to the door when he heard Stiles’s scramble up the path to the house. When the song completes its tune, Derek turns to face Stiles head on. Stiles takes in his boyfriend’s bloodshot eyes and at least a week’s worth of five-o’clock shadows, which is basically a beard at this point. He’s shirtless with only a pair of sweatpants on. Upon closer inspection, Stiles can see they are his old Beacon Hills High workout pants he usually wore on a run for cold mornings. They fit snuggly to Derek’s toned thighs, but Stiles isn’t getting distracted, not now. His eyes jump back up to Derek’s who wearily looks at him. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Derek slurs, shoulders slumped as if already defeated before the conversation begins.

“Really, Derek? Not a hug, kiss, or ‘how was the drive?’ What the hell are  _ you  _ doing here? You should be at the apartment,” Stiles ends with shouting the words, too angry to register everything at once. He can see blankets all over the floor, meaning Derek probably sleeps here most nights now. This only makes Stiles angrier. “I’m here because you sent me some weird ass messages, and I was worried about you. So I dropped everything for you, and drove up a day early. Do you know how late it is? Or early now, I suppose,” Stiles voice elevated again with the last line as he checks his phone to exaggerate his point, reading  _ 4:13 am.  _

Derek starts to tremble where he stands, dropping the microphone with a dull thud on the hardwood floor. Stiles sees everything happen at once, racing to catch Derek’s head before it hits the floor too. Stiles cradles Derek’s head in his lap, laying him down flat on the floor gently while scrunching his feet under him, focusing on Derek’s steady breathing. His long fingers reach Derek’s shoulder, pressing grooves into the skin. His anger is gone, again. “Why didn’t you tell me to come home a week earlier?” Stiles whispers the words on Derek’s skin.

Derek breathes Stiles in once, twice, before answering quietly, “Didn’t want to hinder you. College is important.”

Stiles takes a steady breath too, before questioning again, “Why have you been sleeping here?” 

This is a much more difficult question to answer for Derek, because Stiles feels his muscles go tense. Stiles can see Derek is a bit embarrassed, too. “The apartment doesn’t smell like you anymore. Got lonely,” Derek replies sleepily, sniffling into Stiles cotton blend sweatshirt. Stiles presses his fingers on Derek’s back in harder. 

“Why do you keep all this bottled up? Maybe three weeks away is too much. And I’m sorry, I should have known,” Stiles whispers back the last words, carding his right hand through Derek’s dark hair. He let his hair get too long, and Stiles will have to cut it shorter, once Derek sleeps for ten years. Derek lifts his head from Stiles sweatshirt, and he brushes fingertips to Stiles’ jawline. 

“No, no Stiles, no it’s my fault, my fault,” Derek gestures to himself as he adamantly slurs his words, eyelids drooping. 

“No, big guy. I take the blame for this one. Just sleep, we’ll talk in the morning,” Stiles runs his hand down Derek’s arm in a soothing motion. “I love you,” he whispers to Derek’s sleeping face, which is now sort of smiling now. Stiles continues to watch him sleep, contemplating a new plan for their schedule.  _ Derek won’t be left alone for longer than a week,  _ Stiles chants in his head, before dozing off too, leaning against a burnt wall. 

***

The sound of coffee percolating wakes Derek from his blanket heap on the ground. It smells of Stiles, and their scents mingle together. His head is pounding a bit, but it will go away in a few hours, when the drug will be out of his system. A cup of coffee is placed in front of his nose on the ground next to him, and he makes a pleased rumbling sound, turning his head into the warm light blocking the standing figure from view. “Who is it?” Derek mumbles with a small smile, already knowing the person looking over him. He would know that scent anywhere. 

Stiles stoops down, knees dropped low. He brings his own mug to his lips, and after a slow sip, he replies with, “It’s Britney, bitch.”  

**Author's Note:**

> The Karaoke machine was a gift from Scott. He bought it at a second hand store because he reasoned that the pack meetings were, “too boring on most days.” The pack hadn’t used it since high school, but returned to the entertainment after Stiles enforced a mandatory pack meeting every two weeks, for pack bonding at the new Hale house.
> 
> thnks for reading Xx


End file.
